This flash was inspired by memories of a recent storm. Wind, hail, rain. Watching it was pretty damn glorious.
A storm raged through the mountains, slashing at the lone peaks like a claws slashed at flesh.
The god was upset. She stood under the open skies, soaked to the bone, hair clinging to her skull and crowed.
She’d told him, hadn’t she? She’d told him.
Disobeying the god did no good. Even if the rules were wrong, unjust and hateful. Opposing him was like carrying water in cupped hands. Impossible.
Her brother was stupid stubborn. He wanted to protect his daughter. It wasn’t her fault the boy died, he said. She had to defend herself.
They’d both die now.